Mouth Wide Shut
by Solanaceae2073
Summary: [SxF] Her bare feet slapped against the marble and she sighed knowing she left her finest pair of silver stilettos by the bar. [300 hits&counting! so where are the reviews? please review.]
1. banshee

**COWBOY BEBOP is copyrighted by SUNRISE · BONES · BANDAI VISUAL 1998**

**In your minds, I know you're wondering how many times I'll push Casablanca back, to make way for something new. But with all the work I've gotten with school, and soccer practice and games 6 days a week, I hardly have time. Anyway, I decided on writing an alternate universe fanfiction.**

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******Mouth Wide Shut**

"_They're out to get you,  
demons lurking close at every turn,  
they will possess you." – Michael Jackson_

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Luscious fields reveled in the dusky horizon's hues of vibrant pinks, and blazing reds, mixing in a mesh of purple against the frosty tones of blue. Among the rolling lands and flat plateaus, glowing yellows, oranges, and reds, seemed to erupt from the logs and ground in a bonfire being fed life, and giving warmth to the humans around it.

Among the sparks, lilting dark brown eyes bore into an opposite pair, his spirits flying with the wisps of smoke surrounding the group. Their college friends' raucous laughter filling the atmosphere like music, her mouth twisting into a playful smile.

He smiled back, bracing himself to join her on the other side, to sit among her girlfriends and her. His hands pressed into the stringy moor of grass, feeling the earth's soil kneed beneath the pads of his fingers. His muscles flexed as he hoisted himself up, only to be pat on the back by one of his own friends. Within his comrade's hand a barren Samuel Adams was clutched by it's glassy nozzle.

Carefree grins shared, and a proposition of "Spin the Bottle," all join in a circle, with the heat licking their backs. Squished between two of his athletic friends, some of his nervous jumpy behavior ebbs away, only to be completely swept away with the way her aroma wafted over him from directly across. Her hair blowing to the right, as his mimicked, his raven locks matching her own noire strands.

Her pert fingers traveling over the bottle, resting on its base. With a sure flick, it spun, only to end pointing at him. He smirked and she fidgeted, words formed as he witnessed her tense body begin to lift her up the ground, "Alisa you spun it, now you have to kiss me."

Alisa sputtered, "But Rhint, I-I-"

Noises of protest occurred, as they all witnessed the two finally making their affections public. Those drunk, shouted, "Kiss the poor guy," and many of the girls swooned at the quintessence of shy love.

"You'll have to kiss me," he felt like the man, the guy who finally got the girl, he was more confident, more confident because of her … because of her love. He felt it; he felt her love, warm like the flames turned blue.

She felt him growing stronger, she felt abashed to know she was the cause that created him to be sure of himself. Was queasy that he inflicted the same emotions within her … these tingling sensations of … heat, no … of love. Her eyes sent a cursory glance of his pouting face, long strands flew out behind him, and his chocolate eyes tracing her moves like a student, precise, registering her actions. Rhint's exhilarated smile helped wash away his usual daunting grimace; he was living for once because of her. She wanted to test this theory.

He saw Alisa's navy eyes twinkle mischievously; it didn't matter because she was slowly approaching him. There was something funny about the way her mouth twitched, itching to break away from its straight line. He could feel her bodily warmth from far away; his heart must've been beating louder then the joyous cries of his peers. He could witness her hips sway slightly, he smiled and closed his eyes, and her breath tickled his face, almost taunting him.

He looked peaceful, eyes closed and lips smiling awaiting his life's reward. She was in control, able to do what she wanted to do, to be the one to decide, and it was the most rewarding. "I'm," his grin was dropping slightly, "not," now his face began to twitch, "going to kiss you!" and tapped his nose and scrammed.

His eyes flew open, and he groaned. "Alisa, you'll kiss me, even if I have to chase you into those woods." And he ran after her, in to the seemingly peaceful trees. They were all aligned in neat rows, one after another, equally distanced, and foreboding. "Where are you Alisa, you're making this harder!"

Her breathing was ragged, and her body shook with excitement, her oaf of a boyfriend was only two feet behind her, and he still couldn't find her. These trees served a purpose; they shielded her perfectly from his view. Crunches of leaves could be heard, as he slowly was coming towards her, covering her shaking mouth, Alisa tried concealing her giggling.

"I coming, Alisa!" Rhint ran straight, positive that her scent was intoxicating him, for he didn't know where she went. Suddenly up ahead a large, grandeur mansion stood erect among the trees. The house oozed opulence, and he moaned, "Alisa, if you ran in there, I won't save you if the owner won't let you go! Alisa, just come out! Alisa, just kiss me! Alisa, please! One kiss, I promise, please!"

His voice traveled over to her, and she finally let her voice flow. Waves of girlish giggles erupted after every absurd line he recited to the house. Her feet made movements to walk backwards, intent on leaving him until he gave up and returned to the campsite. Besides, it was getting increasingly cold around her, her hair prickled, and a gust of wind sent the back of her hair flying wayward, running with the gust of wind a scream echoed.

Immediately her arms wrapped around her, Alisa was rapidly becoming uncomfortable residing inside the forest. In the distance she could hear an object approaching. She turned around, only to duck and on coming crow. Another agonized scream erupted, and her hair flew waywardly once more. Despite her calming words, she felt scared, something was wrong. She wanted to be with Rhint, she wanted to be safe.

A feeling overcame her, and she looked upwards, and screamed, screamed like the fury of a hurricane.

Rhint's head instantaneously snapped back hearing Alisa's desperate scream. "Alisa!" He ran back into the grove of trees, he ran back to help her, to keep her safe.

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A man appeared to be busy writing and studying his scriptures in the poorly lighted table among the infinite books that lied on the upper level of his home. Slowly he put down his pen from his fake hand, and stroked his chin through the tiny beard that protruded. Rubbing his eyes, he turned around at hearing a thunderous sound. "Meifa, was anyone at the door?"

"No, Mr. Jet, it must've been the thunder and lightening outside playing with you." Meifa smiled at her employer to reassure him.

"Alright," and Jet turned towards his work once more. Picking up an exam essay off a pile pushed to the right, he began reading through it. Two sentences into the history of Feng-Shui, Jet's hand roamed to a big book, and his fingers skimmed to page 265. Suspicions proved, a large "F" was placed in the corner, as Professor Black wrote, "Lin, please plagiarize a chapter that has not been written by me. If you have forgotten 'Feng-Shui Trough the Ages' is written by me."

Tiredly, Jet picked up another essay. As he began correcting the poor grammar, Meifa announced a Chief Police Inspector had arrived to speak with him. Walking to the staircase, he looked over the indoor balcony, and saw the inspector standing rigidly by the door. "Police Officer?"

"Professor Jet Black, we need your help identifying a certain …_situation_."

"I don't work for the ISSP anymore, plus you have those big shots down in the office to fix this _situation_."

"No, we are asking you as a Professor specializing in philosophy, the mind, history, and … the supernatural."

"Feng-Shui? You could always read my book, I don't do interior decorating on demand," Jet sneered.

"No, Professor, something more irregular." The inspector had an desperate look, and a cracked "please," pulled Black Dog along.

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Blinding white light, white rooms, they all hurt his eyes. It was making him crazy, it was too exorcist like. Jet Black's eyes traveled down the hallway to see a man with long black hair being treated with a shoulder wound. The cast had turned red with drying blood, and the young man's eyes seemed to have aged almost 50 years. Swollen, and bloodshot, they drooped with more then lovesickness rejection.

The officer, who brought the infamous Black Dog, saw what Jet was looking at. In a whispered voice he breathed, "Him and his friends were camping near the forest. In the grove his girlfriend inflicted that wound on him."

Looking straight Jet replied, "and that has to do with me because?"

"The girlfriend seems to be … possessed."

"Take me to her."

Professor Black looked within the room. Computers were tracing wild heartbeats and erratic pulsing. Brain message decoders were not able to reach the intensity of the brain vibrancies. And piles of sedatives were stacked near the corner of a glass room window. Inside laid a young woman, strapped down by her arms and feet.

Her hair was wild, and her body swerved as if being torn from the inside. The nurses couldn't get to her, and the bonds weren't putting up a good fight. Her screams were horrifying, and her jerky movements were enough to break and shatter every bone in her body, the intensity of which she continued to bang her head against her pillow made you wonder why her neck hadn't snapped yet.

All of a sudden she sat up straight, and her voice was as shrill as a banshee's, "YOU CAN'T PUT ME AWAY! I WILL GET MY VENGENCE. YOU WILL NOT STOP ME. YOU CAN'T HIDE. YOU CAN'T HIDE!" Her head continually banged against the pillow, until the nurses were able to sedate her with morphine, so that she only twitched.

Looking to the side, Jet, grumbling, stated, "None of this would help her. All these machines … they're useless. She has been possessed, possessed by anger, by revenge." Turning to Rhint, Jet asked, "Do you want to help her?"

"Of course I do … I love her." Rhint looked sodden and miserable and Jet felt disgusted for a moment. This kid couldn't have saved her.

"You have to take me to where you found her." The boy wasn't even breathing, "Now." All it took was Jet Black's stern voice to move him.

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"This was where I found her."

"Did you notice anything wrong with her?"

"No, she seemed fine. I asked her why she screamed, and she said to lead me to her."

"When you went to hold her, to embrace her, even then you didn't notice anything different?" _There must've have been something_. This kid was desperately thinking, his eyes were forlorn he was hiding something. "There must've been something. It will help save her."

"Her eyes … they weren't her navy ones, but dark and … angry. I felt cold when I touched her." To amplify his statement Rhint remembered her touch and shivered.

Jet took out his spiritual and holy necklace, letting it hang, he watched it move it. There was no air, but it still moved in every direction, as if it was being tossed in every which way. In a low whisper, "Something unholy and bad has occurred here. There are two types of spirits, one that use the body to channel a final message. Then they peacefully go, just as they came, then there are the tortured, vengeful spirits. Your friend has been conceived by the second, and until we find out what exactly happened, your friend's body will not hold this spirit's will to destruct."

Rhint's eyes watered; finally he regained himself and looked up. His mouth set, he set out to speak, "I will help save her." Shoulder's squared he was determined. A loud ringing sound shook him as he took his cell phone from his pocket.

Audibly, "Rhint, man, it's Alisa. She's," cracking voice, "she's dead, man." Fingers lax, the cell phone slid out and hit the ground in a soft thud.

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**__****__****A banshee's wail always meant death.**

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**__********Note- Well, there you go folks. My prologue. Now that I got that done, you'll be reading our major players next chapter. I know it isn't the best, but please read and review.**


	2. abandoned

**Author's Note**: Here it chapter two. Please review, tell me what you think and any ideas you have

Mouth Wide Shut

_"If you got the money, honey _

_We got your disease." - Guns n' Roses_

Music surged through her very core, infecting everything within her like bacteria. Every staccato and vibrating tune multiplied within her, having seized her neurons, bloodstream, and nerves in an erratic, pulsing migraine leaving her numb and sore. She could deftly feel slim fingers, women's fingers, partially hugging her and clutching at her. Her commercial and profitable friends were grabbing at her in sync with the music, from every corner; they were closing in on her.

She looked up at her friends, who where beaming down at her, and offered them a meek ruby-lipped smile along with a double shot of heavy emerald eyes. Slowly their faces were morphing and she turned their worried frowns upward with a forced toothy-grin and a strangled chuckle. Even as they flocked away from her in a white glitter of diamonds, she was still being strangled. Her wings were cut and her white clouds were dissipating, leaving her alone in a world where she no could longer make the best of any situation.

It was always charming and healthy for her ego to observe that people still gathered around her, that they were immersed within her beauty and personality. It was always welcoming because she then had someone to grab and hold onto, someone to manipulate and become one of her valuable assets. Every one of her precious friends was profitable to her physically, strategically and mentally and every one of them was available to her like the anklet that she adorned. Her friends of women-kind gave her comfort, strength and valuable information that leaked from their ever prosperous husbands. The casinos, owned by her increasingly aloof husband, gave her wealth and prestige while the pharmacy, across her luxurious apartment in Tharsis, gave her security and peace within a tiny white capsule.

A sigh escaped her parted lips as she pushed her carbonated drink away from her with perfectly manicured fingers. It was important to her to keep her hygienic and physical maintenance up to par, even if the man who gave her life the figurative "electric jump start" cut off his electric connection and put her to the side like an outgrown toy. She was now the toy "wife" with the package instructions, "Usage: Take her to formal dinners, show the appearance of wealth and ever lasting prosperity that is your life. This toy will follow your plan like a doll in child's play, and life will go on with the occasional pleasure mode in function."

She used to like big gigs and crowds, she used to openly accept her spotlight, but once one part of her sunk into the darkness the rest of the ship wanted to follow suit. She wanted herself to become totally invisible to this world; she wanted to return to her old world. Where life was dangerous but the risk did not matter because there was nothing to lose. Where she played her pieces and decided whether or not to give it all away. She wanted to return to the time before her once endearing and love struck husband awoken her from her one-way ticket to death. In retrospect, it was not her ticket to self-destruction but to freedom, where everything was a pretty shade of blue and where her memories meant something. Where everything was simple and clean like the bullets of her 30 mm Glock, the first friend-like asset she had acquired when she woke up into this deceptive world.

As she fingered her purse with her left hand, the pads of her thumb and index finger slowly strayed away from the tempting zipper latch and onto the glittery, gray, beadlike sequins scattered among the purse's sides. Her body turned hot and cold, her right hand trembled as she gripped her chest where her defeated heart was constricting and breaking all over again. Frantically she bunched up the silky material tightly in her hand until the fabric was balled within her fist. As her left hand grabbed her tiny purse, her right hand had a mild spasm making her unclench her dress leaving slight wrinkles. Wildly she scanned the room for her husband, frantic to talk to him. She needed his comfort instead of science's substitute for him. She rose out of her spindly seat, walking upon stiletto feet towards the center of the club. She had seen his beautiful poof of hair only seconds ago bobbing up and down in agreement with the foreign negotiators about some type of business agenda.

Even as she gripped the barristers and walls for balance, her head was swimming. The music, the blinking lights, the thumping of happy bodies, they were all attacking her weak mind like a group of angry wasps. She finally reached her husband, completely strained and exhausted with sweat forming along her brow, and raised her hands to clutch her lanky husband's shoulders from behind. The weight of another body caused him to turn around.

His wife looked frenzied and her eyes pleaded with him with a wild sad look blazing like an emerald light. His breath hitched at how beautiful she looked right then, faintly remembering why he fell in love with her conflicted, and beautifully lost soul. He should've asked her what was wrong but instead he apologized with his eyes and signaled with his index finger that he'll only need a moment longer to converse the finalities with his new business suppliers. He was about to resume conversation when she tugged weakly at his sleeve; it was always like her to be impatient and in need of direct attention.

She saw him turn around slightly miffed but took the opportunity to speak with him first in a disgustingly defeated voice, "I want to leave."

He saw her plead with her eyes, her green cameras that captured her every emotion, but he knew this deal was so much more important. With a soothing voice he said, "Honey, just wait for one moment. I promise I'll be done soon." To sooth her frenzied state, he slid his arm around her waist and squeezed her soft warm flesh slightly. Watching her close her eyes and sigh, he turned to his smiling partners and noticed they enjoyed their little display. In his mind he gave her a "thank you," their little show gave his image fortification and further planted his wholesomeness into the investors' minds.

As he began to talk to Mr. Asai about the preparations of the Oriental rug shipments and the clearing of the bank checks, he could feel the unbearable tug at his sleeves once more. Before turning around he wondered what made him bring his wife along to such an important dinner. Ignoring his wife's beckoning he began the subject of the bank clearing the millions of woolongs that would support his shipment.

"Yes, but the Tharsis Bank only allows a certain amount to be transferred at one particular moment, no matter how many connections I do have in that organization, I wish to conduct my business legally. After all gentlemen, syndication is no longer a need of mine." She could see one of the investors chuckle nervously and become relaxed at her husband's lazy grin to only erupt in hearty laughter. Why did her husband give them relief and not her? Why wasn't he listening to the silent plea within her to save her once again? To save her from herself.

He could feel her left hand digging into the back of his left arm while her right hand tugged faster at his right sleeve. Since when did she begin to forget her public role to him, since when did she become unbearable? He whipped around to only see her cameras projecting hurt and sadness, her jaw was slack, and he could barely hear her whisper, "Now."

"Just one moment. Fa-"

"I need to talk to you. Now. I'm not asking. I'm demanding, S-"

Gripping his wife's wrists he sharply turned to his investors and flashed a grin, "Excuse me, will you?" Turning back to his wife he dragged her aside. "What the hell was that back there?"

Her wrists hurt, he was gripping her too strongly, and she couldn't breathe. She tried talking through her strangled throat, but only a bubble of sound came out.

"Huh? I can't hear you! Come on now, you have my attention. All that matters is you, anyway. Right?"

Her eyes stung, and her long lashes irritated her squinting eyes. No matter how tight he gripped her wrists, she couldn't stop shaking. She couldn't stop, but there was one thing she had to control and that was her tears. She just had to. If not, she would definitely snap.

"What? Are you gonna cry now?" Her eyes grew wide and then slit back to shards of dark emeralds. 'She's still trying to be tough.' He couldn't believe her, always arguing and defiant. "What's with the waterworks? Say what you need to say and get over it. I'm waiting and once you're done I can go and finalize my deal."

She couldn't cry she needed to stop her crash course to hell. She needed to stay away from her white-capsuled friend. But slowly she was losing grip; her mind was already losing the fight against its own tears and her heart bled at his harsh treatment. She tried containing the tremble in her lips by biting down on them, but the tremors where hard to contain. She could feel the familiar twitch in her nose and a rising coppery taste in the back of her throat.

As he licked his parched lips he never noticed his mouth was slightly agape in amazement of the emotion that flashed through her eyes. Breathing through his mouth had allowed his throat to ache with the constant intake of cool air, and all the while he saw her beautiful face project her battle with her mind and her body submitting. It was then he noticed her lips were swollen red and bitten harshly and her nose and cheeks tinged slightly pink as she tried to contain her nose from running. Her mouth was pursing, desperately trying to hold back her gargled noises and his hands could feel the heat coursing through her body.

She was truly a beauty, but as he brought her close to his chest, to give her some comfort, a choked cry came from her and she tore away from him. Looking at her form brushing through many people he looked back at the investors and then looked at the direction she had rushed off to. After standing still for a few moments, he ran off in search for her.

She had painfully submitted to her craving mind, given in to mental temptation for comfort. She felt she had disgraced herself, she had lost her fighting spirit and she could no longer count on herself to pull through to the surface. She was now torn and broken, a toy that needed more than cheap tape and Krazyglue. Her dear husband was too late now, he couldn't save her now, he couldn't comfort now, and he had lost her to science. She was a science experiment to begin with. Every time she awoke and the numerous times she slept, science was holding her hand. Now she was at the far left spot from where she was once standing with her husband, kicking off her silver stilettos and running up the staircase barefoot all the way to the nearest bartender two floors up.

Shoving a cute couple to the side and ramming past a handsome gay couple she reached the bar. Combing her way madly through the many people hovering about the circular bar she found a tiny open area. Sliding her slim frame into the tiny outlet she banged the table top, her ring tapping harshly against the thick-glassed tabletop. Without looking up to face her, the young bartender came to her gruffly asking her what the hell she needed with the unenthusiastic, "Mam." Wondering at how long it takes a man in loafers to walk two paces towards her she yelled above the crowd, "Water." He cocked his ear signaling to her he couldn't hear her. She yelled a little louder, "Water! I want some god damn water!"

She could deftly hear the damn kid mumbling about "rich snobs and their goddamn attitudes." Whoever said bartenders were patient, observant and an emotional outlet obviously had not further delved into their theory. Or maybe the owner just did not notice whom he was hiring, who the goddamn knew? He had a good voice though, kind of low and rough. She was a sucker for voices. Her husband was very suave, his voice and his mouth shared a smooth quality. She fisted her hand and jutted out her ring finger, it was one of those beautifully shaped pieces of rock that must've cost a lot of money. Shaped like a goddamn white dove it glistened madly. Usually she knew how much everything she had was worth, money was her forte of course, but this was something rare that was close to her. One of her many inanimate friends.

The man next to her got up and left staggering, and she quickly took his seat. Once she sat down though she immediately thought about how long her husband would take to reach her. He was tall and his legs were long and god knew he could read her like a book. She was spontaneous to him, and yet when she lost her spirit, she was caged in his world. She followed his lifestyle and long since forgot about her wandering ways. She couldn't return to the old days and she couldn't reach him anymore to create new ways. Maybe mother was right when she said lust never withstood anything. Once it reached the cool breeze it faded only to leave the ashes. But the funny thing was that she didn't feel only lust when she married him but something more. Maybe he only married her in the only way he knew how to move, rash and determined. Determined to gain what captured him and what was needed, but rash to obtain it.

She gasped as she heard heavy feet, he had followed her! He really did care, always picking up her broken pieces! But as she turned around smiling and wiping the stray tears that had wandered her porcelain face, she was met with the site of many bodies grinding and stomping their feet harshly to the beat. She lowered her hand from her face, growled, and sat gruffly back onto the bar stool. Angered, she wondered why she was so stupid and where the hell that damn bartender went. With another growl she was about to yell for her drink, when manly hands placed a bottled water and glass cup in front of her bowed face. She slowly lifted her head, eyes trailing the path of the well-toned arms and torso, while the bartender stated that the beverage was her drink. Her eyes met his and she could deftly hear him say "Wow."

It was a while since she heard a terrifically manly but innocent male admire her. Admiring her without even knowing her. That was the beauty of strangers and the beauty of innocence. She smiled and he blushed. How cute, "momma's little boy" was going to be a heartbreaker with his sweet dimple. "What do you see?" She whispered while her lips curved upwards playfully.

"Your eyes. . ."

"That's all?" God, she knew there was more to look at then that.

"They're dull and sad."

"Is that good or bad?"

"For you it doesn't seem to suit." The young man looked at her and he couldn't help but feel small. She seemed so worldly and he was just a boy.

"I know it doesn't. Pretty pathetic, right?" She didn't feel like flirting anymore, not like the chatter had started off light anyway, she didn't want the conversation that was going to form from her little initiative. This boy didn't need her problems, she didn't want his innocent sympathy, and she sure as hell didn't want him to be bogged down by her tainted life. It was depressing to see someone so pure and young. Maybe if she was twenty-one again, she could have changed the result of being married four years to an emotionally challenged man. She could have married someone simple like the bartender, at least dated the guy for a year or so instead of being married off within three months to her husband.

He saw the mysterious woman's eyes become regretful and she lowered her gaze. Ignoring the shout for a martini, he watched as she lifted her head.

But then again she wouldn't change anything that she did, she never lived with regret. In the way her mind played the game was to never have regrets. Live with what you choose because it all happened for a reason.

And as she lifted her head, he saw her eyes held a hidden fire, it was definitely beautiful. Her eyes seemed to take a natural bright and determined fire, truly capturing her very soul. And as he leaned forward, enthralled by her wild beauty, clearly more suiting than the sadness, his hand glided on the glass tabletop.

She saw the young man's daze and she coughed. She watched amused as he rubbed the back of his next and looked down to quickly grab something. "Miss, your water." She grinned and looked down at the water and her eyes widened. Suddenly her frantic feeling resurfaced as she remembered the reason she ordered her drink. Quickly grabbing her purse she fished out a dull brown bottle with a white cap, and extracted a few white pills. The pain was coming back, it made her writhe painfully, and everything hurt within her.

He watched in wonder as she stuffed the many pills into her mouth and grabbed the water bottle from his hand. She unscrewed the cap and drank the water and raked her free hand through her purple locks. After drinking the water, she wiped her mouth with the back of her right hand, and looked at him for a second. A weird feeling overcame him, why did she need so many pills?

She watched his confused face, frowned, and leaned over the counter. As she strained to meet her lips to his ear, she whispered, "Thank you for your purity, but it's too late to save me." With a hesitant glance she slightly pecked him on the lips, and left him to watch her retreat. Knowing the pills were going to affect her soon, she ran to the stairs desperately hoping to make it before she fainted.

With her right hand gripping the barrister and the left resting upon her heart, she ran down the many stairs. Her bare feet slapped against the marble and she sighed knowing she left her finest pair of silver stilettos by the bar.

She ran down the many stairs trying to avoid slipping on the splattered liquids and little trash that littered the grand but slightly narrow staircase. As she ran down the sickening, spiraling stairs she heard in the distance another pair of feet urgently running down the stairs.

He finally made it two stories up into the throng of alcoholic dancers and the wide bar section. As he moved stealthily between couples and dancers he made it to the bar where he expected his wife to be. Rubbing the back of his neck he perused the visible area for her. Slightly fatigued he yelled for a martini. Upon seconds of waiting he grew slightly annoyed, and snatched a drink one of the other bartender's made for someone else. As he took a sip his mouth went straight and he sighed, "Too much vermouth."

"Miss, your sandals!" Turning his head he saw a slightly miffed but concerned bartender holding a pair of dazzling stilettos. Silver stilettos. Her favorite silver stilettos. With a blink, he went towards the bartender and noticed the slight scent of jasmine. Taking a seat in the empty barstool he felt the slight warmth of the seat. It must've only been a few seconds since Faye must've left.

"Yo."

"Huh, what?"

The kid still was holding the damn pair of stilettos and looking for Faye. "Yo, I know who those belong to."

"Yea?" Looking towards his new customer the boy saw a lean man dressed in a black tuxedo. Sweeping his face he saw a cocky, lazy grin and hooded eyes. Why was everybody having weirdo cool eyes today? Looking to the side, where a hanging mirror laid nailed against the pole, he tried to see his own eyes. But all he saw was a pale face with black hair, dark blue eyes and slightly pink lips. Hold up. Slightly pink lips? When were his lips ...pink? He lifted his hand and traced his lips with his fingertips. Closing his eyes he rubbed his hand gently against his lips.

"It won't work, she always wore the long lasting type. But she doesn't really need it; her lips are naturally a red. She just likes wearing a ruby-pink with her silver stilettos. Cute, right?" This boy was simple. Innocent. No wonder she kissed him.

With his eyes still closed, "your girlfriend?"

He shook his head "no."

"Fiancé?"

Another negative nod.

Hesitancy, "Wife?"

"Bingo, buddy."

The young bartender slowly opened his dark blue eyes, "she's sad you know."

"Really? Never knew." Looks like the kid is going into 'bartender mode.'

"How could you not? Her eyes ..."

"Cameras, I know." He knew his wife quite well, thank you very much.

"Hey man, I wasn't hitting on her or anything." Yeesh. Protective husband, anyone?

"I know she's wild like that."

"Yea, well she's left now."

"To Where?"

"To the stairs, after she took some pills." The guy's eyes widened slightly.

"Thanks," and with that he rushed to the stairs.

"Hey wait, man! _Her sandals!_"

"Give 'em to your girlfriend!"

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She ran and she ran, and all the while the other footsteps increased. It was like someone was trying to chase her. Like a wolf chasing a rabbit. 

"Faye, hold up." She kept on running, god she was going to faint! "Faye, geez, slow down!" He was the big bad wolf. "Faye!" And she was the tiny little rabbit.

'Come on, Faye! You used to be a cheerleader steps are no big deal!' She hated putting fate in god or even being associated with the word, but now was no other time than to say, "god." It was only a few stairs, maybe fifteen at most, until she was on ground floor.

"Faye!"

Only ten in sight.

"C'mon Romani!"

Five more ...

"Hold up! Please!"

Just two more, she could feel her toes grace the ground floor as she tried to jump the last two stairs. She was so close to the grand doors, to the goddamn yellow messiahs in the streets.

"Faye!" He caught her right wrist tightly as she touched base, "Goddamn, you've gotten faster."

"Let me go!" So close ...

"What's wrong? C'mon! Since when were your problems unsolvable? I'm here Faye. I'm here for you!"

"No ..." her voice was soft, "you aren't there for me Spike. You just sweep up the mess I make, you don't really care why I make it now."

"Let's sit down, c'mon," he slowly brought her to sit down on the stairs, "c'mon, now that's good."

Her husband looked so funny sitting on the narrow stairs with his legs clearly needing more room for they were hunched. Maybe she was important to him.

"Look see? We can talk now. And once we find out what is wrong with you, I can snag this deal, and we'll all be happy." He grinned charmingly. Hey, he knew his wife…she loved the rush of gambling.

"Spike, give me the keys."

"What?"

"Give me the keys. I want to go home."

"Hey, what's wrong now?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm just fed up with you and those damn business deals."

Always like her to yell, he closed his eyes and took a ten second breath. Feeling hands in his pocket, he saw her take his keys and run out to the street. Dazed and angry he let out a yell of frustration. After a moment he left to join the businessmen, his wife was another business in itself where she was the CEO.

Frustrated and tired, she wiped the many tears that dropped from her eyes as the rain splattered her windshield. She promised to never cry, but that lunkhead changed her. He stopped her from being overly critical of her emotions and others only to use it to his advantage. Despite the technical reason she did not have a family, she knew having one meant you had to care about others and have others care for you. When you lived with a stranger, it was easy come, easy go. But with this man, she fell from her untouchable perch.

It was his entire damn fault! Spike the careless. Spike the fighter. Spike the smooth. Spike the elusive. Spike the entrancing. Spike the handsome. Spike her husband. Spike the goddamn asshole! She hit the steering wheel clearly frustrated. No matter how much she hated him, she loved him. 'He truly is an asshole.'

The music still blared within her mind, his lazy grin still appeared in her sight, and she tried speeding away from the vision. Faster and faster, and his face did not even blur, he still grinned, there was no concern on it. None at all, she went even faster.

She heard a shrill sound. Her heart raced. Again it sounded, what was that sound? It came again and it sounded closer. She felt a draft from the back of the car, and in the same moment the shrill scream mingled with hers as the car collided against the back of an eighteen-wheeled trucked.

* * *

_Science always collided with religion._


End file.
